The Dwarven Son

By: Lavinia Posted on: May 03, 2011

His hands they shaped the world to come
He laboured hard and long.
Indeed He laid the ground below,
Each facet did belong.

The pinnacle of mountains,
The wide and open gorge.
From plant to every animal
With diligence did He forge.

And yet His heart felt heavy,
It longed for something more,
And for a time He pondered
On this calling from His core.

With nod of head, His work began,
He reached inside the earth.
He drew forth a russet clay
And shaped this task of worth.

He worked for time uncounted,
Hands coated in the mire.
Perfection was intended
To meet His heart's desire.

And as the task grew to an end,
He smiled for it was done.
And to the world He introduced
His first, the Dwarven son.

His son was so hard working,
Each task set was complete.
But as He looked upon His work,
He felt a small defeat.

The eyes were blank and lifeless,
No flame of passion burnt.
To shape and mould was easy,
Free-will He had not learnt.

He called for His companion,
A fellow shaper of the land,
And asked Him for the gift of will
To touch His dwarven band.

They bartered and exchanged,
A deal was finally struck.
Battlefields did call them forth,
The Dwarves to test their pluck.

The Father's loyalty was sworn,
Allegiance to His friend.
His creations stood before Him,
To war He now must send.

Shield and arms were at the ready,
The finest of their kind.
Their eyes no longer lifeless,
Their hearts no longer blind.

Their battle cries resounded,
As they rushed to meet their foe.
Which side would be victorious?
The Father did not know.

And as the dust did settle,
He looked at what was there.
Some lost their life in combat,
For them, a quiet prayer.

Those lost and those still living,
Each one He knows, unique.
Their names are scribed upon His heart,
Their legacy He does speak.

Their sacrifice eternal,
Heroes for the ages.
Their spirit continues throughout time
Within us all, the fire rages.